


The Sin of Sideburns

by AnnaofAza



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, When bad facial hair happens to good men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-20 13:58:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8251619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaofAza/pseuds/AnnaofAza
Summary: “Harry,” Eggsy finally says, tone very serious, “you look like a villain in a Charles Dickens novel.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to [Colin Firth's facial hair](http://scandalmuss.tumblr.com/post/151260465603/faedreamer-unwinthehart-colin-firth-on-the) in _The Happy Prince_. (I love you anyway, Mr. Firth.)

Harry normally did not have a problem about getting Eggsy to have sex with him. 

Even when he’d lost his eye, thanks to Valentine’s gift of a bullet to the face, Eggsy grinned, glanced at the eye patch, and commented, “Is it morally wrong that I find the pirate look a tiny bit sexy?” 

But recently, Eggsy had been avoiding him like the week after he and Merlin, as teenagers, had to sit through several lengthy lectures about sex — specifically about how the different diseases can make one’s genitals look like creatures from _Doctor Who_.

Harry wonders, as all gentlemen did, whether he had somehow offended his partner enough to warrant such a devoted level of avoidance. He had told Eggsy to not let JB sleep in their bed or to please stop calling him _Haz_ , but those were common disagreements that he felt they’d be arguing until the dawn of time over, not anything catastrophic.

Eggsy still kisses him on occasion and holds his hand, but when Harry tries to give Eggsy a quick peck on the lips at work or back him up against the counter while cooking dinner, Eggsy tolerates it only for a few minutes before backing away. Polite excuses, such as _I’m feeling a bit tired,_ soon had dwindled into transparent _you know, I might not be in the right mood right nows._  

It wasn’t as if Harry hasn't tried; he _has_ , from soft classical music to melted chocolate, but the only sleeping Eggsy will do with him is actual sleeping. 

Harry tries to convince himself he was being silly; after all, Eggsy still sleeps in Harry’s bed, nose buried in Harry’s neck. Eggsy’s gaze never follows any of the agents around HQ or strangers on the street, nor does he stop persisting in putting a possessive arm around Harry’s waist whenever the head of the Italian branch comes calling (Harry had thought about giving Eggsy a lecture on manners and propriety and not worrying about the history between them nearly fifteen years ago, but found himself quite enjoying the attention). Eggsy has shown no inclination to pack his things or stray away. 

But still, Harry worries. 

Perhaps it’s his advancing age. Harry’s birthday is not for a few months, but he already feels as if he’s fifty-seven, a clear senior citizen in both England and in America. His hands sometimes ache when the weather is bad, his spine shoots sparks of pain when he lifts something heavy, and most embarrassingly, finds himself exerted more often than in his youth when he and Eggsy go to bed (or, _used_ to go to bed). 

He and Eggsy haven’t talked about it, but Harry knows Eggsy notices. He knows when they get unfriendly or confused looks in public, he knows when Michelle pointedly notes that she’s younger than Harry is, and he knows when they get mistaken for father and son during their nights out. Eggsy’s the one who wordlessly walks slower beside him when his joints don’t feel quite so right, who affectionately calls him _old man when Harry_ references something from before1991, the one who kisses him when he can’t perform the way he used to when he was Eggsy’s age. And Eggsy…Eggsy surely must wake up and notice how the sunlight falls on wrinkles and gray hair, instead of smooth skin and dark brown strands  —

“Harry,” someone says, and briefly startling, Harry looks to see Eggsy smiling down at him. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m all right,” he sighs. “Did you need something, Eggsy?” 

“Just you,” Eggsy says, then tosses a takeaway bag on his desk. “Merlin says you haven’t been to the cafeteria or the kitchens in hours; you got to be starving.” 

Harry opens it, and he sees a wealth of chips, beer-battered fish, and sides of tartar sauce, mushy peas, and vinegar, complete with a plastic fork and several napkins. “Thank you, Eggsy,” he says, touched. “I hope you have something for yourself.” 

“Yeah, just some parmo hotshot and chips.” Eggsy plunks his own bag down, then from seemingly out of nowhere, produces two paper cups of tea. “And these.” 

Harry thinks about lecturing him about the intestinal clogging dangers of Eggsy’s lunch and about Merlin’s carefully-written meal plan for every agent, but decides not to. Eggsy has a field mission tomorrow that will involve a lot of running, and besides, he’s young and can more easily lose the weight than Harry, stuck behind the desk as Arthur and so much ol —

“Hey,” Eggsy says, sitting down. His expression is serious. “Are you tired?”

“No,” Harry replies. “Just…thinking.” 

“About what?”  

Harry takes a deep breath. “Do you…” But he can’t bring himself to say it upfront. _Do you think you’re ready to move on? Are you growing tired of me?_ “Is something different between us?” he finally asks. 

Eggsy puts down his fork. “I…why would you say that?”

“It’s because…well, you seem to…” Harry forces himself to look Eggsy in the eye. “You seem to treat me differently than normal.” 

“Oh.” Eggsy pauses, then his eyes light up in recognition before settling on his plate, pushing a listless fork through his dish. “Oh. Yeah, I’ve been meaning to tell you something.” 

Harry waits, as Eggsy takes a deep breath, obviously steeling himself. Part of him doesn’t want to listen, but he must. Eggsy deserves to air out his feelings, and Harry will do whatever he can to accommodate him, even if it means…

“Harry,” Eggsy finally says, tone very serious, “you look like a villain in a Charles Dickens novel.” 

There’s a pause.

“…What?” Harry asks. 

Eggsy’s rambling now, cheeks becoming redder and redder, “And not that I’m…maybe I am vain or something…I’m a shallow arsehole, and I’m sorry, Harry, but when I told you that I would support you after you came back, I didn’t think of this…” he waves at Harry’s face. “Well, it wasn’t in my mind at all. And it’s nothing against facial hair; I quite like it when you have morning stubble, but the _mustache_ , Harry, and the _sideburns_ and bit of beard — it’s too much! I just…it feels downright weird when you kiss me, and it’s itchy and ticklish and I get bits of hair in my mouth, but if that’s the way you prefer it, then I can suck it up. Maybe I can grow something too, if you like, but you —”

“Eggsy.” Harry can’t believe this, feeling very foolish about his worries indeed. “All you’re saying is that…you don’t approve of my facial hair?” 

Eggsy looks down at his food again. “No,” he softly admits. “And I’ve been meaning to tell you, figure out a polite way to say it, but this is how you want it to be, I can live with it. I just had to tell you.”

“Eggsy,” Harry says, relieved, “this is for the purpose of my mission next week. Merlin’s been worried about my cover — you know what happened with Valentine and all — and he’s made me change some aspects of my appearance. He’s even fiddling with voice distorters and the inner workings computer facial recognition software — “

“So, what you’re saying is…” Eggsy says slowly, “that you don’t really like this? It isn’t a…life choice or anything?” 

“No,” Harry says firmly. “Once the mission is over, I’m shaving this bloody thing off. I resemble one of my former headmasters, and that man was a fucking tosser, and it gives me a rash in the heat.” 

“Oh, thank god. Just…” Eggsy flies at him, so fast that Harry barely has time to be surprised by the time Eggsy’s arms go around him. “You look so much better without all that hair on your face.” And to Harry’s delight, Eggsy leans over and snogs him —

Then pulls away, making a bit of a face. “Uh, yeah. Forgot about that for a minute. But I love you, you know that?” 

Harry smiles, tugging him closer for a proper embrace. “I love you, too.” 

* * *

When the mission is completed, Harry sends a photo of his newly-shaved face to Eggsy. 

 _Get home as soon as you fucking can_ , Eggsy replies, along with a suggestive emoji, and Harry texts a response before stepping onto the plane, body growing more and more tense with anticipation. 

He imagines Eggsy running up to him, possibly bare-arsed and eager, and them thoroughly desecrating the bedroom and surrounding areas. There will definitely be laundry to do, breakfast to make in the morning, and perhaps another round in the shower if they’re both lucky. And when it’s all over, Harry will kiss Eggsy again, and this time, there won’t be about bothersome facial hair in the way. 

It’s going to be a long flight back. 


End file.
